


Linchpin

by deweydrops



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Catharsis, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feelings, Hair, Haircuts, Healing, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Implied/Referenced Torture, Logyn - Freeform, Referenced Kidnapping, Trauma, heavy on feelings, light on plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 13:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15390096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deweydrops/pseuds/deweydrops
Summary: In the aftermath of a kidnapping, Sigyn struggles to feel like herself again. She makes a late night request of Loki hoping to at least feel different if she can't feel normal yet.





	Linchpin

Sigyn sat before the mirror in her bed chamber, slowly running her comb through her still-damp hair, watching as the red-blonde curls fell through the fine teeth and settled back at her waist. She'd washed it so many times since the rescue, using up nearly all her cleanser, but it still felt unclean. Felt wrong, somehow. So much about her felt wrong.

Even now she could still feel the troll's iron grip near her scalp as he took her away to the underworld, her magic doing little to stop his brute strength. She could still feel the rough release of his fist as he threw her to the ground before the king of the underworld, determined to make Loki suffer. She could still feel the king's decrepit fingers snaking through her hair, as his words crept into her head, twisting her mind until she could barely separate his voice in her head from her own thoughts.

Weeks later, when Loki finally burst into the cell where they'd kept her, finishing off her captors in a blind fury, she'd been convinced that he was another lie, another trick of her mind. Even now, she still heard the king's voice, still accepted his words as truth though the part of her that fought his influence persevered most of the time. She was safe now, back on Asgard, back with Loki. Physically, she was safe from an invader, an outside threat.

She was not safe from her own mind.

Or her own body. She daydreamed lately of crawling out of her own skin, leaving behind the still-healing bruises and marks from the restraints they'd used to block her magic, the hot breath of insidious whispers in her ear.

She set the comb down with shaking fingers, studying her hair in the mirror. It hung loose over her shoulders and down her back like a curtain. Before, back when tales of the underworld were merely another legend, the gentle weight of her hair was a comfort, an occasional shield from the world. Now it felt like an unbearable burden, tainted by the hands of her captors.

She tried to think of other, more pleasant memories, recalling how her mother would comb it out, telling some story or another when she was a child. Or Runa, her beloved mentor, showing her how to properly care for it, mixing the right oils and salves into a cleanser to make it shine. Or her sister plaiting it as they prepared for a celebration in Asgard. Or Loki, taking it down when they'd retired to their bedchambers, his fingers sliding through it as it tumbled down her back. The way he'd idly stroke a lock as they lay in bed together.

The memories were hers, yet she couldn't seem to recall the feelings she'd had then, or the sensation of others' hands in her hair. She was utterly removed from her own past.

“Sigyn?” Loki's voice pulled her out of her reverie. She met his eyes in the mirror. He stood in the chamber doorway, waiting for her to respond.

“I can't sleep,” she said, beckoning him inside. Normally she'd have gone to bed well before this late hour, with Loki joining her sometime later, wrapping her in his arms.

Loki crossed into the bed chamber, placing his hand on her shoulder. Since she'd been rescued, she'd understood him so much more. Though his tormentors were different from hers, he knew what it was like to be unmade. How his captors' hands, their words, had terrorized him for over a year. He'd been destroyed and remade into something else, struggling for so long to get himself back.

“You should try,” he said, offering her his hand.

“You're one to talk,” Sigyn snorted. His sleeping habits had been erratic even before his fall from the Bifrost. Often he'd remain awake until he absolutely could not put if off any longer, only to spring out of bed the moment his eyes opened.

“Perhaps not,” Loki conceded. “But you're not me, my darling.”

Sigyn looked at the ground, twisting a lock of hair in her fingers. “Every time I close my eyes, I see them.” She looked up at Loki. “How do you cope with it?”

“I don't,” Loki shrugged. “Though having you with me is a consolation.”

Sigyn smiled at that, before turning back to the mirror, still bothered by her reflection. Not quite ready to move from her spot, there was one thing still nagging her.

“Loki?” She whispered, slowly meeting his eyes.

“Yes?”

“Will you cut my hair?” Loki stared at her, taken aback by the request.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

He knelt down beside her, his hands sliding down her shoulders. “Why?”

“I can still feel it. The way they touched it.”

Loki caressed her hairline with his fingers, a look of sadness and understanding in his eyes. His fingers slid down a lock of hair near her face, stopping at her clavicle. “Here?”

Sigyn shook her head. “Shorter.”

His fingers slid up higher, this time just above her shoulder. “Here?”

She hesitated. “Shorter.”

He hesitated, moving his fingers up to her chin. “ _Here?_ ” 

She nodded.

“You're certain?”

“Please.”

Loki stood, locating the gold shears in a drawer near the mirror. He moved behind her, pulling the long tresses back behind her shoulders. “Do I have your word I will not incur your wrath when you wake tomorrow?” Loki asked. His fingers combed down the length of her strands one last time, as though saying goodbye. “If you come to regret it.”

“Of course,” Sigyn replied. “I just...want it _different_.”

Loki gathered the red-blonde mass in one hand, bringing the shears to the back of her neck with the other. Sigyn closed her eyes as the snipping began, the weight slowly leaving her head. Shortened strands fell free along her chin and neck. Tears threatened to spill as the cold blades progressed along the back of her neck.

At the last snip, Sigyn opened her eyes to see Loki lifting the mass of long locks away, casting them to the ground. He ran a hand over her head, shaking stray clippings loose. Her reflection revealed jagged, uneven ends where she'd once had a cascade of silken locks.

Now the tears did spill from her eyes. It was a strange mixture of sadness, fear, shock, and, at the end of it all, relief. She said nothing as the tears flowed, letting them wet her cheeks as she kept her head still. Loki paused, concern on his face as she wept. He placed a hand on her shoulder, the silent comfort assuring her that it was alright, that she would be alright. Once the tears stopped, she nodded for him to continue.

Loki's fingers returned to her hair, the shears evening out the shortened strands. He worked slowly, each cut precise, until the last of her long hair was gone.

Loki set down the shears when it was over, looking Sigyn over and carding his fingers through what was left of her hair. The strands now just grazed along her chin, and she liked how they moved with each turn of her head. Her curls seemed tighter, their color more vibrant. The alien lightness in head almost made her dizzy, and she was nearly giddy once she realized she could no longer feel those unwelcome hands in her hair.

“It will cause quite a stir,” Loki said after a moment. “Yet it suits you.”

“It does, I suppose,” Sigyn said, tentatively feeling the ends with her fingertips. It was a shock, to lose so much of herself in mere minutes. And she would miss her long, silken curls, but they would grow back. It would take time but it would grow back, and she would heal.

“Darling?”

Sigyn's hands were still casting over her newly-cut hair. “Yes?”

“Do you like it?”

Sigyn studied her reflection one last time, a small smile crossing her lips. “I do,” she said after a moment. “I really do.”

Loki pulled her to her feet, sweeping a few fallen locks off her shoulders. “I do, too,” he replied, tilting her chin up. “It will be so much easier to reach your beautiful neck.” He pressed his lips against the soft spot under her jaw, his teeth just grazing over her skin.

Sigyn giggled, the first threads of something like happiness coalescing in her heart since the rescue. “Perhaps we can test that,” she murmured. “Once we've finished cleaning up.”

Loki eyed the mess on the floor. “Tomorrow,” he replied, leading her away. “It's time for bed.”


End file.
